


Spotlight

by burymeonpluto



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeonpluto/pseuds/burymeonpluto
Summary: Ven just wants to work with Vanitas again.Vanitas just wants Ven to stay very, very far away.
Relationships: Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45
Collections: The Hearts Intertwined Fiction Collection





	Spotlight

  
  
“Vanitas!” Ven’s excitement gets the better of him as he bursts out-of-breath into the green room. He sprinted over as soon as he saw Vanitas’s name on the cast list. It was right next to Ven’s, just like old times.  
  
The face that greets him is not so excited. Vanitas scowls at him from his place on the couch, scrolling through something on his phone—something that Ven _knows_ isn’t social media because Vanitas doesn’t use it. Ven’s searched all over for him for six years! Six years since their old show ended and they were pulled apart. No, this is all wrong. There’s not even a glint of their old friendship in Vanitas’s face. Nothing of the pranks and inside jokes in the dark corners of backstage, of the soft touches and playful arguments, or Ven’s embarrassing whining over their lack of a kissing scene—because if Terra and Aqua get one, then _it’s only fair_.  
  
But now, he looks at Ven with nothing but bitterness. It’s the same face he would make when they were forced to go to premiers or interviews or really anything that wasn’t filming or cold readings. “It’s you,” he spits like the words are poison.  
  
They must be, because they burn within Ven’s chest. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I should’ve known.” He gets to his feet with a huff. He’s taller than Ven now. Only by an inch or so, but enough for Ven to notice. “It had to be _you.”_ Ven doesn’t know what that means. Vanitas marches to the door, and their shoulders slam together as he passes, knocking Ven back a step.  
  
“Wait—”  
  
“Don’t bother,” he hisses. “You won’t use me again.”  
  
Ven doesn’t know what that means, either, but he doesn’t follow. He doesn’t fight it. He only clenches his fist over his chest like that could somehow stop the ache.  
  
When the day passes and Vanitas doesn’t return, Ven knows he can’t leave it like this. He knows just the thing. A hot white chocolate mocha latte with a sweet vanilla drizzle. Extra whipped cream and made with decaf because caffeine makes him jittery. Ven has had this order memorized for six years. Vanitas’s favorite. What a sour attitude for such a sweet tooth.  
  
Ven writes ‘Vani ♥’ on the cup in the neatest letters he can muster—which is still kind of sloppy. Ven was never good at that sort of stuff. Vanitas was always the one doodling in the margins of his scripts whenever they had downtime. Ven wonders if he still does it.  
  
But first: the coffee. Ven leaves it on the vanity in the green room. Vanitas disappeared in a huff yesterday—what a diva, but unlike him—so hopefully he shows up for the cold reading, at least. Ven ducks out before he’s spotted and loiters on set, watching the production crew move set pieces around in a dance of trial and error.  
  
He’s so distracted by the crew that he doesn’t notice Vanitas until he’s towering over him with the coffee in his fist: “Tell me… if I dumped this on your head, would it burn you enough for permanent disfigurement, or just enough for you to leave me alone?” He’s not even smirking. “Although, I guess I win either way.”  
  
Ven bats his eyes. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Don’t play dumb,” he scoffs. “Only you would ever leave me something so tooth-rottingly sweet.”  
  
“Really? What is it?”  
  
Vanitas visibly twitches. “You know damn well what it is. It’s a white chocolate mocha decaf with extra vanilla. The sweetest, least-caffeinated thing on the menu.”  
  
“Caffeine makes you jittery,” Ven shrugs.  
  
“What a laugh.”  
  
“Sounds like someone knows you really well.”  
  
“Oh, lay off it,” he mutters, voice dripping with malice. “Just stop. We’re not kids anymore. I’m not as gullible as I used to be.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I don’t need your pity,” and he shoves the coffee into Ven’s hands. It’s still full. “But if you’re gonna waste time making fun of me, at least put a shot of whiskey in it.”  
  
Ven glances between him and the cup, dropping all pretenses and fumbling words. “Do you not like it?”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“It thought it was your favorite…”  
  
“When I was _twelve_.”  
  
“So you don’t like it anymore?”  
  
“What does it matter? Just leave me alone.” He storms away, probably back towards the green room.  
  
“Wait—Vanitas!” Ven starts after him, but freezes up. His legs stop working altogether. Is there something he’s missing? He and Vanitas used to bicker, sure… They used to poke and prod at each other until one of them would actually snap, but it was all in good fun… right? They used to play and joke… sneak into the dark corners of backstage and hide from all the stage lights and adults. They used to _laugh_. Vanitas used to smile. Ven used to have fun. It may all be in the past but what could have _changed_? Vanitas keeps saying things that don’t make sense. He doesn’t need Ven’s pity? Of course he doesn’t. Why would Ven pity him? Why would Ven want to _use_ him?  
  
The coffee is turning cold. It almost bursts through the lid from his trembling hands. This isn’t right.   
  
Ven’s heart is in his throat. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he throws open the door of the green room. Lukewarm coffee drips between his fingers, sticky from all the added sugars.  
  
Vanitas sits there as he always has. His glare is ice cold. He slams his can of decaffeinated soda onto the vanity and Ven watches it foam over. “Are you slow? I told you to _leave me alone_.”  
  
Ven sits the coffee before him with a force. It drips down the sides and into a sticky ring at the bottom of the cup. “What’s your problem?” he demands. “How are we supposed to work together like this?”  
  
“You think I want to be here?” he snorts. “I’m only doing this show because I _have_ to.”  
  
“What does that mean, Vanitas?” Ven snaps. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, not one word of it, but you’d rather make mean faces than _talk to me_!”  
  
Vanitas stands up so fast his chair is knocked over. “How could you _not understand_?”  
  
“How am I _supposed to_?”  
  
He’s seething, but still not saying anything. He just stands there, trembling and gasping in what can only be rage.  
  
“We used to be friends!” Ven shouts desperately. The ache in his chest has reached a fever pitch.  
  
And Vanitas laughs. A sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Were we?”  
  
Ven feels the floor drop from beneath him. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand anything. “Wh… What else could we have been?”  
  
“We were costars,” he says. “We were just climbing over each other to see who would reach the top. But I was the only one who didn’t know he was in a race.” His shaking hands curl into fists. “I was just a stepping stone for you and your career. After the show ended, you went off to do whatever you wanted, and I was stuck with the leftovers. Typecast as a villain or deuteragonist. Never as good as I _was_ or _used to be_. I was just second-rate. Stuck doing slop that no one else wanted and no one ever cared about!”  
  
Ven sucks in a breath. “Wait—”  
  
He sticks a finger in Ven’s face. “So _don’t_ act like we were friends when you didn’t care about me. Not as an actor. Not as person. You _never cared_.”  
  
Ven clasps that hand with both of his own. “Wait!” he shouts, and Vanitas finally stops. His breath is deep and fast. “What are you _talking_ about? Of course I care. I’ve seen everything you’ve ever been in. I kept up with all of your work.” He only looks skeptical. Ven’s fingers coil tighter over his hand. “I remember the time you had a guest appearance on that sitcom you were too good for. I went to see you perform when you did that off-Broadway tour. I had no idea you could sing like that… And that independent film you starred in last year—where you were the law student whose roommate was murdered—it made me cry. It still does…” Vanitas’s mouth drops open. “You’ve only gotten better. I don’t… understand why you’re so mad. You’re so good in everything you do.” Please let Vanitas believe it. “I miss working with you. I think you pull out the best in me. And besides, ever since our show ended, acting has gotten more and more like… work. I miss when it was fun. It was only fun when I was with you.”  
  
Vanitas doesn’t move. “You don’t… mean that,” he stammers.  
  
Ven steps forward, until there’s barely any space left between them. “I mean it! I always wanted to work with you again! It’s all I’ve ever wanted!”  
  
Vanitas bows his head. He can’t seem to catch his breath. Ven feels it, hot against his face. “You… you actually watched _Advanced Theory_?”  
  
“I bought it,” he grins. “I’ve probably watched it ten times. It’s so good. _You’re_ so good.”  
  
This time, his laugh is nothing but air. But it’s real. Ven would know it anywhere. “So, I’ve spent the last few years blaming you… for something you didn’t do?”  
  
“Huh, if only there was some kind of device that fits in your pocket that can connect you to anyone, anywhere, at any time.”  
  
“Shut it,” Vanitas grumbles. “You know how I hate that.”  
  
“Give me your number _right now_.”  
  
“You have to let go of my hand first.”  
  
Ven pauses. He tightens his grip instead. “Okay, it doesn’t have to be _now_.”  
  
Vanitas laughs again, and their foreheads gently touch. “Whatever you say.”  
  
“I can’t believe you thought I’d used you like that…” he mumbles. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean to, but still…”  
  
“Ven…” Vanitas says his name at last, and Ven’s heart flutters. “My entire life has been defined through being by your side. No one knows who I am without you there.”  
  
“But _you_ know. That’s what matters, right?”  
  
“Maybe… I don’t know…”  
  
“I thought you wanted to go your own way, and be your own person. So I left you alone.”  
  
“I thought…” Vanitas swallows the ache in his throat. “I thought you’d washed your hands of me. That you’d abandoned me.”  
  
“ _No_ ,” Ven insists, their faces so close he can’t see anything but bright gold eyes. “No, I’d never do that. I never wanted that. If it’d been up to me, the show would’ve never ended. I could’ve stayed there with you forever.”  
  
He just snorts. “That’s not very practical.”  
  
“Yeah… That’s why they don’t let me direct.”  
  
“What a train wreck that would be,” he laughs.  
  
“Hey! You weren’t supposed to agree so quickly!” Ven pouts, and Vanitas keeps laughing. Bright, genuine laughter. Warm against Ven’s face. “I missed you.”  
  
His free hand hesitates at Ven’s cheek. “I… missed you, too. Even though you were better off without me…” Ven makes a face. That’s not true! “I missed the past.”  
  
They can agree on that, at least. “We were best friends back then, weren’t we?”  
  
“We were a little more than that,” he chuckles.  
  
“What do you—?” he’s stopped by Vanitas’s thumb tracing his lip.  
  
That grin is so sly. “Weren’t we?”  
  
And Ven knows he remembers. The kissing scene thing! It was a joke! Ven’s nervous laughter bubbles to the surface before he can stop it. All at once there’s the darkness of backstage—the soft touches and giggling—the feeling that his heart is about to leap out of his mouth! “Don’t remind me of that,” he overflows. “It still keeps me up at night.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
“You aren’t supposed to remember it at all,” he groans.  
  
“Why would I ever forget that you wanted to kiss me, you loser?”  
  
Ven’s breath halts in his lungs. Vanitas asks the question so candidly. Ven can’t say anything. He can only stand there and stare at those gleaming eyes and thin smirk on soft pink lips like flower petals and Ven thinks: _I still kinda want to_.  
  
“After everything, I thought you were making fun of me,” Vanitas mumbles. “You were just trying to manipulate me.”  
  
“I don’t think I’m smart enough for that,” Ven chuckles.  
  
“So, you actually meant it?”  
  
Ven did. He meant all of it. He feels his face burning a bit. Feels the pinpricks of Vanitas’s fingertips still propped beneath his chin. But the only words that come out of his mouth are: “Do you hate me?”  
  
Vanitas blinks at him in shock. His eyes search over Ven’s face for an eternity, chewing on words too big to swallow. “No,” he says at last. “I never did.”  
  
The relief that floods Ven’s body is enough to make his legs weak. “That’s good to hear.”  
  
“I couldn’t.”  
  
“That’s even better.”  
  
Vanitas rolls his eyes. But that smile. “You’re such a dweeb.”  
  
What a non-insult. Ven tugs on the link of their hands. “C’mon. There’s still some time before we start. I’ll get you another coffee.”  
  
Vanitas lets Ven pull him away; lets him buy another sickeningly-sweet coffee drink; and they laugh, just like they used to.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As featured on the [VanVen Zine](https://heartsintertwined.net/)! (All the information is at the <\- link to get a physical or free digital copy!) So much work by so many people went into the zine project, and it's truly bloomed into something spectacular.
> 
> Also: This posting is the uncut version! There's only a few lines difference, though... 
> 
> [@VaniVeniVici](https://twitter.com/VaniVeniVici)


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